


It's Not So Lonely When You're Home

by pietromavximoff



Category: Captain America, Marvel, Stucky - Fandom
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-30
Updated: 2015-07-30
Packaged: 2018-04-12 01:31:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,104
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4460117
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pietromavximoff/pseuds/pietromavximoff
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve finds Bucky after a fight and convinces him to come home.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It's Not So Lonely When You're Home

Bucky wasn’t planning on moving for the next few hours. He was sitting in the kitchen of the Avengers headquarters, diving into one of Tony’s expensive bottles of alcohol. His eyes watched the huge window opposite him, watching the sky darken, as he raised the bottle to his lips. His throat burned and his chest grew warmer as he swallowed. As much as he tried not to think about Steve, his thoughts kept drifting to him, the way his eyes grew glassy as Bucky spoke, the way Bucky couldn’t look him in the eyes afterwards, the way he heard the soft catch in Steve’s breath as Bucky turned and left, his eyes threatening to let tears spill out if he stayed any longer.  
He was scared, but he’d never admit it. So he had gone to the empty facility and he had let himself sit in the dark, cold kitchen as he used the only full bottle as an escape from his mind. It worked for a little bit. It always worked for a little bit.  
When things got bad, Bucky would try to keep it in as much as he could, but Steve could always tell something was wrong.

‘What is it, Buck?’ Steve had asked him earlier that day. Bucky had frowned, shaking his head. Steve would always try everything to get it out of him, but Bucky hated telling Steve, and seeing the broken look in Steve’s eyes when he realized he couldn’t fix him.  
It had gone too far, and maybe they’d let it. Maybe it was better this way, Bucky thought miserably as he took another long gulp, maybe they’d had their time and now it was time to move on. 

He heard the sound of a door closing somewhere in the huge centre and felt his heart slowly constrict. A few minutes later, Steve was there, leaning against the doorframe, his hands fidgeting together. Bucky let the burning liquid wash his mouth before he could look Steve properly in the eyes. Steve hated seeing him like this, but it was the feeling of helplessness that really killed him. Bucky’s lost eyes searched Steve’s for something, anything, that would give him a reason to lash out again, just to yell mindlessly and not stop until he felt his throat finally close, his body telling him enough damage had been done and that no more words would come out. Steve didn’t say anything for a while. Then, when he couldn’t take the sight of Bucky sitting there alone, he went and sat on the stool next to him, leaning against the black bench and taking the bottle from Bucky’s hands and putting it to his lips. Bucky watched him, a hint of amusement rising in his chest and curving his lips, as Steve squinted at the taste.  
‘You know that doesn’t do anything for you.’ Bucky’s voice was softer than he had expected it to be. Steve turned to him, his blue eyes big and glowing in the moonlight spilling onto them through the window. ‘Buck.’ His voice was pleading, almost desperate, and Bucky realized as he kept watching him, that the lines on his forehead were more obvious, something that only happened after he cried. Steve reached out, leaving the bottle on the bench, and grabbed Bucky’s hand with his own, squeezing tightly and brushing his thumb over the rough skin.  
‘Buck.’ Steve frowned, his heart hammering. ‘Please. I need you.’  
Bucky’s breath caught in his throat. He felt the hot tears in his eyes and tried to blink them away, but they only escaped. ‘You . . . you don’t need me.’  
Steve let out a slight laugh. ‘God, Buck. You don’t see it. I do. I do need you.’  
Bucky looked away, to the moon shining brightly against the black sky.

He remembered when Steve found him for the first time since he had left him on the river bank, barely alive. Somehow, in his most vulnerable, Steve had managed to convince him that he wasn’t who he thought he was. That he wasn’t going to kill him. That he didn’t want to. And leaving him, watching the way his lips were parted just enough to let breath in and out, was the hardest thing he could do, not because he felt like he was failing his mission, but because somewhere, deep down, as he walked away, weight lifting of his tired shoulders, he knew he wasn’t. And when Steve found him after that, it had taken everything Bucky had left to finally let himself go, finally let himself feel everything. And when memories slowly came back after that, triggered by the way Steve’s hand felt in Bucky’s, or from the lull in Steve’s voice when he was tired, Bucky knew that it had all been worth it.  
Going through everything they went through had all been worth it, just  
to feel what they felt when they were with each other after it.Sometimes, it was hard for Bucky to remember that. This was one of those times. And Steve knew it.

‘You need me.’ Bucky said, his voice changing with each word, his heart beating faster.  
Steve smiled slowly, ducking his head as he grinned in relief.  
‘You need me.’ Bucky repeated, liking the way the words sounded coming off his lips and getting lost in the empty space between them.  
Steve leant in closer, resting his head against Bucky’s shoulder. ‘Come home with me.’  
And there was nothing else that mattered, because Steve had asked him in that soft, scared voice that was so open and defenceless, and because Bucky realized there was nothing more he wanted than to collapse into their bed and feel Steve’s arms tight around him, silently promising with every second they held on to never let go.  
They went home. Bucky, forcing his tired body through the door and down the hallway, Steve holding his hand the whole time. In the darkness, they found their way to their bed and fell onto it, tangling  
themselves up in the blankets and each other. Bucky woke somewhere in the middle of the night, feeling Steve’s light  
breath on his neck. He was muttering something and, right before he drifted back to sleep, Bucky realized he was repeating the same thing, over and over, in a soft voice that was almost too soft to hear, except it wasn’t.  
Come home with me.  
And when they eventually let their weary heads quieten and they were deep asleep, Steve and Bucky were still holding onto each other.  
They’d hold onto each other for the rest of their lives.


End file.
